


A Man's Got a Heart

by FahcLove



Category: Oliver Twist - All Media Types, Oliver! - Bart
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Fagin centered, Pickpockets, What Happens After, based off the musical not the book, book fagin sucks, reviewing the situation based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FahcLove/pseuds/FahcLove
Summary: -hasn't he?A story about Fagin, how he tries to review his situation, and his love for the children he keeps a watchful eye over.





	A Man's Got a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> My school's putting on Oliver and I'm in the pit but my best friend is Fagin and I was listening to Reviewing the Situation and got feelings so,,,,here we are.
> 
> Ps. This is based off of the musical Oliver! not the book.

The minute Fagin sent Oliver out with Dodger, he knew he screwed up. He couldn’t explain why, but there was a heavy feeling in his gut, just like when he brought Bill under his wing, or when he listened to Nacy gush about how handsome Bill was, or when he had to escape from his last gang over 20 years ago. It was a feeling that foretold things to come, very bad things. But, he brushed it off. Oliver was his new recruit, a scrawny boy who clearly had come from the Corney Workhouse just outside of London. He hated that workhouse, hated seeing the lines of them walking to and from the workhouse and the workhouse, heads down, as if they were little criminals serving a life sentence of community service. Fagin hated it. If he ever ends up rich in his lifetime ( _ when  _ he ends up rich) he plans on buying out the workhouse and running it himself, serving the boys more than porridge, letting them have free time, letting them live. 

Maybe that’s why he let Oliver head out with the other boys, he felt bad for the unsaid, unheard, and unfulfilled promise Fagin never actually made to him. But he was so small, so fragile, he was already working, and Dodger told him he had been walking seven days to get to London. And, with those facts, Fagin just couldn’t say no. 

So he sent Oliver on his way, making sure he stuck close to Dodger. Dodger was his best boy, the only one to have never been caught by the magistrate, the only one to successfully rob Fagin. Not even Bill Sykes could do that. Fagin was sure if anyone could take care of Oliver, it was Dodger. 

Fagin was wrong. It’s every man for himself, he should’ve known that, he should've waited a day or two before sending Oliver off. But he didn’t, and now Oliver was arrested and then taken by the same rich man he stole from. This has never happened before. In all the years Fagin’s been alive, he’s never lost a boy. He’s never had a boy kidnapped. Arrested, of course. Killed, only on the rare occasion. But kidnapped? That’s never happened before, and Fagin didn’t know what to do. What if Oliver tells the magistrate about them, he can’t move all of his boys that quickly. He has some young ones, brothers and sisters of his boys who live with them. It’ll be hard to move all of them. He had to get Oliver back. 

Thankfully, he didn’t even ask Bill, he offered himself. Well, he offered Nancy, which was good enough. Speaking of Nancy, Fagin didn’t miss how she purposely wore her one dress that covered her neck. He didn’t know (or care) what she or Bill did at night, but the same feeling in his gut that told him not to send Olivier out told him her neck was not covering something seductive. Or maybe it was the way Bill slapped her, leaving a bright red handprint across her cheek. It made Fagin sick, but he couldn’t stand up to Bill, not now, so he said nothing, just tried to put himself between them before Bill did something he regretted. 

Bill sent Nancy to save Oliver, and in a few hours, her and Bet were back, dragging a very nice and prestige boy. It took Fagin a second to realize it was Oliver. He had already moved on. 

He let his boys go to work, picking Oliver’s pockets, taking his books, finding a five pound note. Just what Fagin needed. But it was also what Bill needed. And Bill always wins. 

That night, after making sure all his boys were asleep, Fagin went to pull out his jewelry box, but stopped. 

“Is there more for me than this?” he asked the air, receiving only soft snores in return, “is there any chance I could ever do something good in life? Get a wife, a job, anything? Or am I stuck here, looking after lost and feeble children, stealing and lying for the rest of my life?”

He looked around at the peaceful faces of the children around him, and at the few which were scrunched up in nightmares of a life before Fagin’s, a terrible life that leads them here. Life would only get harder for them, there was no way Fagin could protect them all. Hell, Oliver just showed up and he was immediately taken. And even for the boys not lost, look at how Bill and Nancy turned out. Fagin didn’t want to be responsible for anyone in the way he was responsible for Bill and Nancy. He didn’t want children like Oliver to get arrested stealing for him. He wanted these kids ( _ his _ kids) to have a chance at a good life, at a life he never got. 

“I don’t want to have their lives in my hands, but what am I to do?” he said, careful not to wake up all the kids around him. A few stirred but just rolled over. Dodger mumbled something about his hat and clutched it tightly. Fagin smiled, a soft smile, the way a father looks at a child. But it was disturbed when Oliver bolted up, letting out a half scream, shaking. Fagin immediately went to his side, setting the boy in his lap and rubbing his back, like he’s done to every child of his that’s had nightmares. 

“It’s okay Oliver, it was only a dream, nothing can hurt you here. It’s me, Fagin, you’ll be alright,” he murmured, making circles on Oliver’s back. The boy tried to bolt, but Fagin held him tight and Oliver was too tired to fight anymore. 

“Fagin 's that you?” Oliver mumbled, sinking into Fagin’s huge jacket the way hundreds of children had done before.

“Yes sir ‘tis me. What’s troubling you young lad? What was your dream about?”

Oliver mumbled something, turning his head into Fagin jacket so it was unintelligible. 

“What you’d say my dear, I couldn’t quite make it out.”

“Bill Sikes killed Mister Brownlowe an’ Nancy. An’ you,” he said quietly, scared as if just saying his name will summon him, “there was so much blood, like when one of the orphan boys was crushed on the job. It was so scary.” 

Fagin blood froze, but he didn’t react. He didn’t want Oliver to know that this was also a nightmare Fagin had, although without Mr. Brownwhatever. He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t have to look at him to see the tears streaming down Oliver’s face and staining his jacket. Fagin tried to think of something reassuring to say. 

“I promise you Oliver, ain’t nothing gonna happen to me or Nancy or even Mr. Brownhead. And Bill isn’t gonna kill anyone, I promise you that. He’s just a little scary sometimes. It’s to keep up the reputation. He’s not actually like that,” Fagin didn’t know who he was trying to convince, Oliver or himself, “We’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

Oliver sniffled, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Will you tell me a story Fagin, so I can sleep?”

Fagin cleared his throat and began, “Once upon a time there lived a little boy in a magical faraway land. It was full of other kids like him who could run and play as much as they wanted to with no one to tell them to do anything but their Leader, a nice old man who was rich beyond your wildest dreams, for in this land flowers sprouted rubies and it rained crystals, which meant everyone had enough money to live. With the old Leader was the lovely Prince and his Princess, happily married and never apart. The little boy lived in the land with all of his friends and spent his days playing games under the hot sun in nice clothes made just for him. How was that?” Fagin asked, but Oliver was asleep, his face buried under Fagin’s arm and in his jacket. There was no way Fagin could move him. He laughed and laid down, making sure to keep Oliver safe and comfortable. He knew Charley Bates or Dodger would make fun of him for this in the morning, but if Oliver was comfortable, it was worth it. He couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. 

The next few days were monotonous, the boys going out to pick pockets, this time Fagin making Oliver stay at home with the little ones. He didn’t want to lose him again, and, if he was being honest with himself, Fagin wasn’t sure that Oliver wouldn’t run off to Mr. Brownhole’s the first chance he got.

On the third day, Nancy showed up again, sporting a black eye, but a dress that showed her collarbone. Fagin didn’t comment, noticing how she tried to hide it with her hair. 

“Fagin, do you mind if I talk to Oliver for a second, he asked me to tell him a story and I’d hate to disappoint,” she said, pointing to Oliver who was sitting alone in a corner. Fagin had tried to talk to him every day, but he was usually unresponsive. Fagin only managed to get a word out of him in the nights, when he would get a nightmare, and Fagin would console him, and he’d fall asleep on him. It became a sort of an unspoken routine for them, one that they both needed. 

“Sure Nancy, I’m glad you’ve taken a liking to the boy, it’s been hard to get him to talk ever since we got ‘em back.”

“I imagine,” she said, walking over to sit next to Oliver, who didn’t make a noise, but Fagin saw the way his posture shifted in the slightest. He really liked her. Fagin smiled. He was glad Oliver finally found a friend.

Nancy stayed with him that entire day, the two of them talking about God knows what, Fagin didn’t want to interrupt them. He knew Oliver was still mad at him, so he decided to let the boy have some freedom to say what he wants without fear of repercussions. 

“Well Fagin, I should probably head out, but, can I talk to you for a second? Nancy pulled him away from the other boys and Oliver, whispering in his ear, “Do you mind if I take Oliver home with me tonight? He’ll be back in the morning it’s just’ - I can’t bear to see the boy look so sad. I think you’ve been keeping ‘em here for too long. He wants to go explore, for at least a night. Please Fagin?” she was begging him, in the voice that reminded Fagin of when she was younger, asking to go out and steal with the older boys. Fagin couldn’t say no then, and he can’t say no now. 

“Well sure Nancy, if just for one night. I must tell you though, the boy is prone to awful nightmares when sleeping alone. Try to stay with him, alright?”

Nancy smiled, a soft smile that warmed Fagin’s heart. She truly cared about him, “I will Fagin, don’t you worry.”

Nancy and Oliver left around seven, as told by the bells tolling in the distance, bidding Fagin a goodbye that he almost described as tearful. He didn’t have the dark feeling in his gut, but he suddenly wished he knew what Oliver and Nancy were talking about before they left. 

The rest of the night was uneventful, the boys came home, showed their goods, and Fagin sent them to bed, each with a sip of gin. He was just about to go to bed himself when there was a loud bang on his door, so loud that some of the boys even woke up. 

“What’s goin’ on Fagin?” one of the boys, Ruthe, asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“It’s nothin’ Ruthe, go back to bed. I’ll handle it,” Ruthe nodded sleepy and laid back down.

Fagin opened the door to a very angry and disheveled Bill Sikes, who was clutching Oliver tightly by the arm. They both had a splattering of something that looked like dark paint on them. Fagin was very worried. 

“Bill? What’re you doing here? Where’s N-” he was cut off, Bill grabbing his arm with such a ferocity Fagin knew there would be a bruise.

“The gig’s up Fagin,” he said, and Fagin looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but pure fear hardened into anger. 

Fagin knew immediately what he was talking about, and what the dark paint actually was. His heart stopped, “Not Nancy. Bill, please don’t tell me you-” he couldn’t say it. But he realized, if Bill killed Nancy, then the magistrate would be coming after him, and they would know that Bill spends his time at Fagin’s which means that they would check here first and see the hundreds of pounds of stolen wallets and handkerchiefs and he and all his boys would be arrested. He had to get everyone out of here. 

“Out boys! Get out!” he ran as fast as his weathered legs could take him, shaking the boys awake, telling them to run to their safehouse, or to the bar, or just away from right here. He grabbed the little ones, matching them up with their siblings, trying to hide the wallets and handkerchiefs. It was a mad frenzy. 

“Fagin, Fagin! What do I do?” it was Dodger, his best pupil, with round, fearful eyes, so different than the joyous ones he saw just a few hours ago.

Fagin dug through the floorboards, finally grabbing what he was looking for, “Live up to your name! Dodge about!” he wants to wait for Dodger, but he knows that anyone was to escape the magistrate, it would be him. 

WIth his jewelry box clutched tight in his hand, Fagin stumbled out of his house and into the London night. Immediately he could feel the tension in the air, could faintly hear a chant for Sikes’s head, could see the smoke from the mob started downtown. This was very bad. 

Fagin could see some of his boys on the path ahead of him, running and dodging boxes and trying to find a safe place. Fagin tried to keep up with them, but he was slow, weighed down by his age and by the box in his hand. But he couldn’t just let it go. 

Then he tripped on a stone, sending the box flying out of his hand. He stood there, looking at the rubies and pearls and coins that lay scattered in front of him, knowing that if he stopped to pick them up, it could be the death of him. 

“Fagin! Fagin!” one of the boys called of him, and he snapped out of it. He had more important things than jewelry. His boys needed him. 

He ran off and into the night, running to the first safehouse, which used to be owned by Bill’s lackey Bullseye, but he lost it in a bet. Only half of his boys were there, but he had planned for it. He had told the ones with little ones to go to the bar, where the barkeep or Bet would be able to take care of them until Fagin dropped by, and he told a few others to go to Bill’s safehouse, to spread them all out. 

Fagin and his boys slept in Bullseye’s old house, huddled together for warmth, not daring to light a fire. 

“What do we do Fagin?” Charley Bates asked, curled up into his jacket on his right side, Ruthe on his other. 

Fagin opened his mouth to lie, to tell them that it would be fine, but he closed it. 

“I don’t know Charley. I really don’t know.”

  
  


It had been six months since Nancy and Bill were killed, and Oliver found his family. Fagin found this out from Bet, who had been at the bar at the time, but joined in the mob calling for Bill’s head. She had kept some of his boys safe, so he let her join his gang, acting like a mom to them in the way Fagin never could. 

He tried to let them all go, telling them to find their homes in better places like Oliver did, but none of them would budge. They all seemed glued to his side, not wanting to leave even when Fagin gave them money. 

“You take care of us Fagin, why would we want to leave that?” Charley Bates had said when Fagin asked him why they stayed. And Fagin couldn’t argue with that, no matter how much he tried. 

But he managed to convince his boys to work nights at the bar, shining shoes, cleaning dishes, selling drinks and other foods, and even some providing entertainment for the guests. In exchange the barkeep let them live in the cellar, which even with the alcohol, was big enough to fit all of his boys and some. It was nice, and Fagin worked very hard to unteach his boys how to steal, having them get respectable jobs out in the market. He wanted them to grow up right, not like Nancy and Bill. And sometimes his boys would come back telling him how they got an apprenticeship, and be gone the next day. And Fagin was okay with that, as long as he knew they were okay. 

The only boy he was worried about now was Dodger. He had been sentenced to prison for six months, which meant that Fagin hasn’t seen him since that night. But he will soon. Ruthe, who works for a rose seller near the magistrate says that Dodger is to be released in just a few days. Fagin is excited, but worried. Prison can change a person, and for someone as impressionable as Dodger, something very bad could come from it. 

But hopefully nothing will happen and everything will be alright. Hopefully. 

“Mister Fagin, someone’s been lookin’ for you!” one of the newer boys yelled down the cellar stairs. As much as Fagin wanted to not be in charge of kids anymore, he still couldn’t deny the kids that came to his place cold and hungry. 

Fagin climbed up the stairs, his old joints cracking and creaking, but he made it to the top. 

“Who ‘s it Fonner?” he asked the boy, who just shrugged.

“Said he knew you, won’t say nothing else. He’s outside now, waitin’ for ya’.”

“If I don’t come back, tell Bet I love ‘er,” he joked, and Fonner laughed.

“I will Mister Fagin, I will!”

When Fagin opened the door to the bar, he peeked his head out to check for anyone extremely dangerous. Seeing nothing, he walked outside and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Even without his old clothes, Fagin could still recognize him immediately. He still had his hat, of course. 

“Dodger!” Fagin cried and engulfed the boy in a bone crushing hug, which Dodger returned with the same ferocity. 

“Fagin! I’ve missed ya’, ya’ old chap!” Dodger said into his ear, still in his embrace. Neither of them would say it, but they both missed each other. 

Fagin pulled away and checked Dodger up and down for injuries, “I’m so very glad you’re okay. Did the magistrate hurt ya’ cause if that did I’ll-” 

“I’m fine Fagin, honest. Jail taught me some very good things about thievery. For example,” Dodger held up Fagin’s pocket watch, given to him by one of his boys last month. It had been kept in his inside pocket, impossible for anyone to get to it. Well, except for Dodger. 

“Outstanding, Dodger! Just outstanding! If that’s all you did in jail, maybe I should spend some time there!” he joked, grabbing the pocket watch back from Dodger and putting it in a different pocket from last time. But even as he was doing that, Fagin didn’t miss the shadow that passed over Dodger’s face. Fagin filed that away for further discussion, “Now Dodger, come inside, come inside, I’ll tell you what’s been happenin’ the past months while you were away.”

Dodger followed Fagin through the bar, mostly empty, with just the barkeep and a few of Fagin’s boys cleaning up and getting ready for when the bar opens again. Dodger and Fagin snuck behind the bar, through a door that had “KEEP OUT” in big letters on the front, and then through a trapdoor in the ground, leading to a long stairway. Dodger followed Fagin down, anticipating seeing all of his friends again, seeing Charley and Nipper and Captain. Dodger couldn’t wait to steal again.  

“You see Dodger, after everything that happened with Bill and Nancy and Oliver, I decided it was better for my boys to relinquish the old ways and instead try to be a respectable gentleman, getting jobs and apprenticeships and fresh new lives, not like the ones before. And I hope, that after your time in the clink, you would understand the most and would be willing to join us. I’ve even been talking to a tailor friend of mine who said she’d be willing’ to give you a job next week if you wanted it,” Fagin explained as they walked down the steps. Dodger was disgusted, shamed that Fagin would just throw away the life he’d been raised in just to turn green, but then he thought. He thought about jail, how every thief in there was thin and poor, beaten and bruised. He thought about Bill, how he used to look up to him. He thought about Nancy, who always talked about living the “good life” someday. He thought about how happy Oliver looked in his new suit. And as Dodger thought, he realized that maybe being respectable wasn’t all that bad. 

“I dunno Fagin, you might be onto something. It sounds like something Nancy would’ve wanted.”

Fagin opened his mouth to answer, but by that time they reached the bottom of the stairs and Dodger saw the rest of the boys, the rest of his  _ family _ . 

“Dodger!” Charley Bates cried, jumping into his arms. Dodger spun his friend around and felt a tear fall down his face. He missed his friends.

“You’re back!” Nipper exclaimed, also jumping to hug him, as well as all the other boys that recognized him. Soon Dodger was in the middle of a hug pile, reminiscing about the good old days. 

“Hey get off of him you lot! Don’t want to kill him after we just got him back!” Fagin said, shooing the boys off of him, only Charley remaining, clinging tightly to Dodger. 

“I thought you would be in there forever!” Charley said into Dodger’s neck, still clutching him as if Charley let Dodger go, he’d be arrested again. 

“So did I Charley. But now I’m back an’ I ain’t ever leavin’.”

After catching back up with all the boys and what jobs they had and what girls or boys they fancied, or the latest gossip, Dodger found Fagin, who was sitting in the corner watching over everyone as he always did. 

“You know what Fagin, I think I’m gonna take you up on that tailor job, I think it’s perfect for me. Thank you.”

Fagin stood up and hugged him, “No problem my dear. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you are.”


End file.
